


Boxes in Mansions

by SaoirseKennedy



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Childhood Memories, Domestic, M/M, Post-War, i love writing about nixs home, there's no point to this really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6925381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseKennedy/pseuds/SaoirseKennedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis and Dick rummage through the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxes in Mansions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dancinguniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinguniverse/gifts).



There’s a bemused smirk on Dick Winters face. It’s subtle, a slight tugging at the corner of his mouth. Maybe an angel holds the strings to the sides of his mouth, pulling the invisible lines tighter when Lewis Nixon does something particularly amusing. Or heck, cut out the middle man, maybe Lew Nixon holds the strings. 

Whatever the case, Dick is biting back a rare grin as he watches Nix on the cold marble floor of his basement, rummaging for something very specific, apparently. The Nixon mansion is empty, as Blanche, Nix’s sister, is busy courting boys who’ve come home from Europe, his mother is drinking pina coladas somewhere in Cuba, and his father is no doubt pacing the halls of the nitration plant. 

“Maybe he’ll leave unexpectedly for a week one of these days,” Nix had said the night before, when he and Dick had experienced a particularly rough day on the job. “Just like old times,” Nix said this between bites of roast.

“Lew.” Dick said it almost plainly. There was never judgement, always patience. It really got Lewis in a place that was almost always impenetrable. 

The marble was a deep gray, and held no flecks of shine or sparkle. No doubt the basement was only ever used for intimate gatherings of the family. Guests would use the ballroom off the entrance hall. Dick saw stacks and stacks of boxes in the wide room, shoved into a corner. There were also movable racks of old clothing, bookshelves full of dusty novels and textbooks, and two ornate cribs, painted white with gold accents and carved roses in the corners. 

“Ah-ha!” Nix is victorious, holding up a shot glass, a yearbook, and a deep blue graduation cap. “I told you I graduated.” When Nix stands up Dick can hear his knee pop, and he almost winces. 

“I never said you didn’t.” Dick sits down on the cloth covered sofa to their right, waiting patiently for Nix to stop grinning and sit next to him. 

“Here I am,” Nix points to his graduation picture, and he plops the cap on his head. “If only there was some booze down here, I’d give you the full Yale picture!” He looks so proud, and his face is in an open, honest smile.

Dick twists his mouth to keep from looking like a fool. “I think I have a pretty good idea.” He glances at Nix in the photo. Really, he doesn’t look much different than the day they met at Fort Benning. He’s clean shaven, smiling mischievously. Dick looks up at Nix again, comparing. 

“What’s going on in there?” He gets close to Dick’s ear. He’s very forthright, when he wants to be. 

Dick’s tongue feels big in his mouth all of the sudden. He pushes on through, and chuckles. “I think your ears got bigger,” It’s not what he wanted to say, but it’s funny, and the moment is saved, or lost depending on how Lewis decides to look at it. 

Lew doesn’t say anything. He pulls his cap off and begins looking through other boxes. When he points to the other ones in the stack, Dick helps himself to the history of the Nixons. There are several velvet boxes full of fine jewelry that one of the Nixon women deemed unworthy. Dick quickly puts them down without looking at Nix. He finds blueprints of war ships that Lewis Nixon the First made before Lew was born, and he is momentarily caught up. 

“Nix,” He splays his fingers along the blue paper. 

“Hmmm?” Nix is looking at a photo album of him and his sister. 

Dick pauses, making a mental note to grab that photo album before they leave. He shakes his head. “Why didn’t you join the Navy?”

Nix’s head snaps up. He sees the old prints and laughs. “Found those huh?” 

“I’m just wondering. Seems like you got the water in your veins, is all,” Dick can tell he’s edging on one of Nix’s moods. He decides he can weather a Nixon storm at this particular moment. What better place, really?

“This coming from the man who’s practically part fish?” 

Dick smiled outright at that, thinking of all those mornings in the Zell Am See. “I thought it was,” He waited for a surge of affection to swell and dissipate in his chest. “‘Ginger eskimo.’”

“Ah, you’re right,” Nix conceded. “Well, it’s not like I’ve ever been one to live up to the family name,” He gave Dick a pointed look, “and anyways, I couldn’t very well follow you to the paratroops if I had joined the sailors.” 

“You didn’t know me when you joined the Army,” Dick compelled him to speak plainly. 

“Yeah, well,” Lewis paused, shaking a rattle with a silver handle. “Let’s just say it seemed like an escape hatch that would also piss off my parents.” 

Dick blinked. “Joining the Army. Not the Navy.” 

“Bingo, mon amour,” Nix winked and threw a scarlet school tie at Dick’s head. 

“High school tie?” Dick fingers the scarlet and gold tie. There’s a crest in the bottom right of the tie, neat gold stitching outlining a shield and oak tree. 

“St. Patrick’s Holy Cross School for Boys,” Nix smirked ruefully. “That was middle school.” 

Dick’s mouth quirks. “Did this tie ever get worn by middle school Nix?” Dick’s own public school didn’t have a uniform policy, so most days he’d breeze in with loose fitting trousers and a button down; on Fridays he’d wear denim and a tee. 

“You know, I was a good kid,” When Dick raised his eyebrows Nix huffed. “Mostly.” 

“All I’m getting from this is that your tie wasn’t worn that much.” 

“Well, ya know, at least I got good grades,” Nixon continued on through the boxes, with Dick close by his side. “To be fair, those ties are God awful.” 

Dick concedes, and let’s Nix talk about middle school, and high school, and Yale. He blanches when Nix says he had his first drink when he was thirteen. 

“Up in the smoke room, with all of Stanhope’s buddies,” Nix waves his hand up to the stair, laughing at the memory. “I’ve snuck down from the staircase, listening to them complain about taxes, or the president, or the length of the breadlines,” He rolls his eyes. “You know, whatever rich people had to complain about during the Depression.” 

“Did they really complain about all that?” Dick shook his head. His family didn’t lose their farm in the thirties, and he was able to finish high school, but there were plenty of days he went to those breadlines with his sister. Food was expensive, and there were certain things you couldn’t grow, even on a Pennsylvania farm. 

Nix seems to remember where Dick is from, but he decides not to lie. “Well, you know how they are, Dick,” He ducks his head a bit. “I know it’s awful.” 

He’s temporarily struck by Nix’s embarrassment, so he grants Nix a smile that shrugs away his father’s callousness. “Well how was the drink?” 

This brings a wicked grin back to Nix. “So, Stanhope goes to the smoke room with his buddies, for Cuban cigars, so I just,” He laughs. “Took a glass of whiskey.”

“Was this the beginning of your love affair with Vat?” 

“Actually no,” Nix stands up, brushing the dust off his pants. “I first crossed paths with her when I was in Yale.”

“It took you that long?” Dick sucks in a breath. 

“Imagine if I had found the Vat at thirteen,” Nix stops, looking at Dick pointedly. 

“Oh,” Dick stood up too. “Yikes.” They stare at each other for a while. 

“Well, enough about my misspent youth,” Nix laughs easily enough, and Dick breaths through his nose. 

“Do you think I could take that?” He points to the gold enameled photo album Nix was looking at earlier. “It seems a shame to leave it here.” He tries not to blush. How silly it must seem to Nix, who leaves his family tucked up in nice boxes, to want to showcase his childhood. 

Nixon glances at the album, full of professional photos of him and Blanche at every age. Dick thinks maybe Nix will brush it off, saying that those photos don’t mean anything. They’re set up and staged. But he doesn’t. He only smiles, and picks up the book. “We’ll have to go to Lancaster and get some of you and Ann.” 

“I’m not sure we have very much,” Dick rubs the back of his head. “There is a really nice one of Ann and me, before I left for Benning,” He turns back to the stairs. “Maybe I could get a copy made?” He ends it on a question, hoping Lew will know how to do that. 

He takes the hint. “Yeah, there’s a couple places in the city you can do that.” 

“Is it expensive?” Dick starts up the steps, following the sunlight that streaks its way down the stairs. 

“Come on Dick,” Nixon’s voice echoes in the hallway. “Just give me whatever you need copied and I can make a run,” Dick makes a face at Lew and he sighs. “Fine. I’ll get some pictures and we can split it.”

Dick snorts. He knows Lewis will get his hands on his pictures somehow, and suddenly he’ll have five copies of Ann’s graduation photo. But he nods his head, letting Lew think he’s fooling Dick. 

Nix gives Dick a grand tour. The ballroom is as grand as he thinks it will be, with a cathedral ceiling and a beautiful dance floor, made out of a light wood that Dick couldn’t place. In the corner was a grand piano. 

“I used to sleep on the floor here, and look up at the chandeliers, or out the windows onto the street,” Nixon seems quite at home in the room, while Dick shuffles quietly by. 

The upstairs hallways holds pictures of all the past Nixons, along with miniature models of ships Nix’s grandfather had built and designed. Nix taps his hands along the bannister, the sounds echoing off the ceiling. 

Blanche’s room is beautiful, with artwork on the walls, along with a very endearing photo of an eleven year old Lewis mugging for the camera. It tugs at his heart, and he decides he wants a copy of that photo more than anything. 

Her bed is huge, with a big black duvet thrown over it. Dick smirks at the drama. He decides he likes Blanche a lot. She has some jewelry laid out, mostly pearls and small diamonds, but they don’t smack of gaudiness, and he hopes she has a good head like Nix. 

“Will she be mad that you let me in her room?” Dick is staring at her huge closet, which is full to bursting. 

“She’ll be mad you were here when she wasn’t,” Nix is leaning against the wall, looking towards the french doors that lead to Blache’s private bathroom. “She’s been on me to bring you around for ages.” 

“She should come into the city sometime this week,” Dick wonders if she doesn’t already have an apartment in the city somewhere. 

“Yeah, sure,” He strides down the hall. 

Nix’s room is simple, but there are books stuffed everywhere, and his bed looks like it belongs in a castle. Its four posters are carved into lions at the feet, and roses on the front. 

“Nice digs,” Dick walks the perimeter, looking at the posters on the wall. He’s got a skyline of Chicago, a giant Mets advertisement, and what looks like a replica of a Monet. 

“It’s been quite a while since I spent a night here,” Nix is smiling though, any trace of his earlier moodiness has vanished into the sunshine. Dick preens in his genuine happiness, glowing in the brief calm. 

“Do you miss it?” Dick walks to the big open windows, looking at the silk curtains hanging down, noticing the gathering clouds on the horizon. “I just mean, your room, your own things, not--”

“Yeah,” Nix cuts him off, flopping onto his bed. “I’ve had some real nice times here, Dick.” 

“Like what?” Dick is oozing affection, sliding his hands through the curtains, gazing softly down on Nix’s head. 

“One time,” Nix tips his head back, remembering. “Blanche and I holed up in my room for three days during a blizzard in,” He scrunches his eyebrows together. “Jesus, must’ve been in 1930, right after the Depression started,” He sits up, waving for  Dick to come closer. “We lived on chips, mints, and Coca-Colas.” 

“What, the maids couldn’t get in to make dinner?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” Dick leans against the post of Nix’s bed. “I remember that blizzard.” 

Nix is quiet. Dick thinks he’s embarrassed about growing up so wealthy, but it’s not like Dick was out on the street. 

“I went sledding,” Dick laughs. “Didn’t come home until the roads were cleared.” 

Nixon sighs, sitting up and scooting over to where Dick stood. “I used to take ski lessons,” He took Dick’s hand, smoothing it over in his palm. “Never went sledding though.”

“Really?” Dick is slightly distracted by Nix’s heavy hand in his. “We should go this winter.” 

“I’m beginning to think a trip to Lancaster is in order,” Nix stands just as the rain starts to fall outside. “We’ve got to visit your room, look at your pictures,” Nixon is running his hands along the window panes. “Not to mention sledding.” 

Dick listens to the rain for a moment, briefly mesmerized by the sounds of it. It’s a heavy spring rain, and it whips up huge flowery smells, blowing through the cracked window. He imagines Lew on his own twin bed at home, looking at the meager photo albums of the Winters family. It brings a fluttery feeling in his chest. 

“Christmas in Lancaster?” He raises his eyebrows. 

“Lancaster Christmas, 1946,” Nixon turns around, eyes bright. “Better than Bastogne don’t you think?” 

“You should invite Blanche.”

“Only for a few days,” Nix nods his head, striding towards Dick. 

They listen to the rain for a long time, shrouded in the grandeur of the Nixon mansion. The photo album of Nix sits on the bed, waiting to be taken home. 


End file.
